Chronicles 1 - Changing Places
by Melissa Rivers
Summary: Some journal writings of a particular CSI


TITLE: Chronicles 1 - Changing Places  
AUTHOR: Melissa Rivers  
EMAIL: missy@lexicon.net  
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/missyliannem  
CATEGORY: Tag to Pilot/Cool Change episodes  
RATING: PG13  
SUMMARY: Just some journal writings of one particular  
CSI.  
STATUS: Complete (Wow, that's a rarity for me.)  
ARCHIVING: CSI Fanfic Archive; CSI Grissom/Sara  
Archive. Otherwise, not without permission.  
DISCLAIMER:  
CSI:Crime Scene Investigation and its characters are the  
property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis & CBS  
Production Company. I have written this story for  
entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever  
has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is  
intended.   
AUTHOR NOTES:  
This may be a series that I will write over time. I would  
like to do one for each eppy but with time constraints, I  
know that probably will never happen. However, I will  
endeavour to complete quite a few.  
I also must thank Scribe for allowing me to copy the  
format of this story from her Daniel's Diaries series for  
Stargate SG1... go have a look and you'll be entertained  
for weeks. The URL is http://www.btinternet.com/~clark/  
Finally, the members of the GrissomandSara list for  
educating me in American pop. culture references. :)  
FEEDBACK: On or off-list is fine, but please let me know  
what you think. Constructive criticism and even flames  
accepted, because I believe every persons views must  
have a valid point at some stage... if not, I have my trusty  
flame destroyer at the ready If there are any  
glaring errors, please let me know as I'd like to correct  
any before it is put on my website.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SARA SIDLE  
  
The telephone call came unexpectedly, his soft-spoken  
voice a welcome retreat in the kaleidoscopic events that  
were currently my life. His request to come down and  
handle an internal investigation had been a godsend,  
although a surprising one.   
  
Even investigating a possible internal infidelity by an  
officer in Grissom's employ was more inviting that the  
glacial relations currently experienced by the crime  
investigation unit from the police. Forget the fact that we  
are both fighting on the same side, when it came down to  
it, CSI only had evidence to rely on and the evidence in  
this case spoke loud and clear. However, the police had  
a silent code of ethics that stuck through thick and thin,  
despite all logic and reason to the contrary.   
  
This visit to Vegas would only be a temporary reprieve.   
I'd have to come back eventually, but the small, Grissom-  
induced holiday would be a momentary retreat, one where  
I could regroup and come back to this job rejuvenated.   
I'd also have a chance to work with someone I found an  
easy rapport with, someone I admired and  
respected...someone that I...   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
CSI BUILDING  
7.03 A.M.  
  
Sara sighed as she typed the last words of her report. Hitting  
save on the keyboard, she leaned back in the ergonomic  
chair, her back protesting at the sudden movement after hours  
before the computer. She rubbed at her neck, easing the  
muscles that were contracting tightly.   
  
The heat pervading the Vegas streets had settled over her like  
a heavy, damp blanket, her naturally curly hair tightly springing  
in response to the humid air. San Francisco had been going  
through a cold snap when she left, despite it being Summer,  
and she was finding the heat oppressive. It wasn't helped by  
the nature of her inquiry. Her interactions with Grissom's staff  
had been limited to those involved in her investigation; those  
whom she had met and interviewed were naturally defensive.   
Sara had been glad for the background work she'd done on  
Warrick Brown before interviewing him. It had cut the chase  
and given her insight into the truth.   
  
Her stomach protested loudly. The last few days she had  
survived on the bare minimum sleep and food. Coffee laden  
with sugar had occasionally served as a meal and now that  
she had completed her report, Sara was reminded of the  
breakfast appointment with her temporary supervisor.   
  
Sara hesitated a moment before sending the report to the  
printer. The result was not what Grissom had been hoping  
for. In his initial call inviting her to Vegas, she had noted the  
special relationship he had with Warrick. A pang of jealousy  
hit her; there had been a time when she had heard that special  
tone in his voice for her. It had been a long time ago.  
  
Having worked with him in the past, she knew that he looked  
for the best in his staff and expected them to perform to their  
optimum. She had found the truth behind the circumstances  
leading to Holly Gribbs' death, circumstances which might  
have prevented the loss of her life. Warrick Brown had not  
followed policy and procedures for clearing the scene. Even  
if he had, it may not have changed what had happened. The  
problem was that Sheriff Mobley was looking for scapegoats.   
Apparently, he'd already caught Detective Brass in his web,  
resulting in Grissom's sudden promotion - a position he had  
readily admitted to not wanting.   
  
Sara found it hard to feel sorry for Warrick, though. If he had  
cleared the scene to go for coffee as he had indicated initially,  
she would have understood. But to clear out of a case,  
without following procedure, leaving behind a rookie to lay a  
bet, that was wrong.  
  
Resting her elbows on the bench top, she waited for the  
printer to complete its job. Sara massaged the pressure points  
on both sides of her temple, closing her eyes as she  
concentrated on easing the gentle throbbing that was often a  
prelude to a full-blown headache.   
  
"Sara?" Grissom's voice broke through her thoughts.  
  
Sara slowly opened her eyes to look up at him, leaning against  
the door jam. She dropped her hands to allow them to cross  
casually on the bench top in front of her.  
  
"Hey, Grissom."  
  
"Are you okay?" His eyebrows raised slightly, placing a  
personal, silent accent on the question.  
  
"I've finished the report," Sara answered, changing the  
subject. She hated anyone being concerned about her well-  
being, her independent streak automatically coming to the  
fore.  
  
"We'll discuss it at breakfast. Not here. Ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah. Last page is printing now." Sara stapled together the  
sheets of her report. Normally, she would have re-read the  
report after it was printed, but Grissom's arrival had put that  
standard practice out the window. She logged out of the  
computer. Her access on the system had been limited due to  
her temporary guest status.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
S&J's COFFEE SHOP  
  
Grissom and Sara sat down at the formica table set into a  
corner of the busy coffee shop. The marbled table top was  
still damp from its recent clean and a faint smell of pine filled  
the air. Noting the damp surface, Sara placed her report on  
the seat beside her.  
  
"We'll eat first." Grissom indicated to the waitress that they  
were ready to order. She greeted him warmly and Sara  
realised that Grissom must frequent the coffee shop fairly  
regularly. He raised his hand slightly in her direction, signalling  
for Sara to place her order.  
  
"Scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, rye toast and guava juice."  
  
"Same for me with OJ in lieu of guava juice."  
  
The waitress quickly jotted down the orders before leaving  
them.  
  
"Glad to see that you still have a good appetite." Grissom  
commented lightly, a smile teasing at his lips.  
  
Sara looked up at him, surprised by the comment at first and  
noticing his smile, gave him a broad grin. "Contrary to the  
rumour, I always eat well when I get the chance... sometimes  
you don't know when you'll next get the opportunity to eat."  
  
"How're you doing, Sara? The San Francisco investigation  
must be tough."  
  
Sara shrugged. "Five cops beating down on a single black  
guy. No evidence of a weapon. Massive internal injuries  
leading to his death. As you can imagine, it's been in the  
media; anti-discrimination campaigns and citizens against  
police brutality. You name it, we've had it. It hasn't helped  
that the evidence is going in one direction. I was grateful for  
your request."  
  
"I'm sorry that it had to be another internal investigation."  
  
"Don't be. At least I don't know your people. It makes it  
very easy to be impartial," Sara responded, her voice  
changing tone, becoming soft and troubled. "In San Fran, I  
couldn't believe that these people I had worked with had the  
capacity to beat down on a single person like that; they lost  
control and became animals. Grissom, they were people the  
public trusted... people I trusted."   
  
Grissom saw the haunted, lost look in Sara's eyes as she  
looked down at her tightly clasped hands, the right thumb  
rubbing her left before alternating. It was a Sara so different  
to three days earlier when she had quipped a pop culture  
reference at his experiment, falling easily back into the  
comfortable rapport with each other. "You can trust me."   
  
Her head came up slowly and her eyes met his steady gaze.   
A glimmer of a smile touched her lips. Before anything more  
could be said, their breakfast was served.  
  
They ate in silence and were only halfway through their meal  
when Grissom's cell phone rang. Placing his cutlery down, he  
wiped his mouth before answering the phone. "Grissom."  
  
Sara watched his eyes as he listened attentively to the caller.   
Leaning across the table, Grissom pulled her napkin from  
beside her plate and quickly jotted down an address before  
finishing the call.  
  
"I've gotta go. A case. I'll read your report later."  
  
"Grissom? Can I come with you?" It was the last  
opportunity she had of working with the man she'd admired  
for so long.   
  
Grissom was surprised by the request. Sara hadn't even  
asked what type of case he was working, just asked for the  
opportunity to work. Most people would have taken the  
opportunity to have a break from work, particularly since they  
had been working all night. But Sara wasn't most people.  
  
Sara could see the question in his eyes, before he nodded.  
They left the coffee shop, Grissom leaving a generous tip for  
the waitress.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
CRIME SCENE  
7.34 A.M.  
  
"We've got a possible suicide, but the evidence is pointing  
otherwise. Vic is John Stevens, 42. Lives alone. Neighbour  
recalls hearing a sound last night about 9.30 p.m., but thought  
it was just a car backfiring," Brass informed Grissom as he  
climbed out of the SUV, carrying his silver investigation kit.   
  
  
"What alerted them to his death?" Sara asked.  
  
Brass looked at Sara inquisitively. He had seen her around  
the CSI building over the last few days, but had never been  
introduced. His backward career movement to Homicide  
had alienated him from the CSI Curiosity now had him staring  
intently at the dark-haired woman, before casting a silent  
question at Grissom.  
  
"Oh, sorry. I assumed that you two must have met. Jim, this  
is Sara Sidle. Sara, Detective Jim Brass, Homicide."   
Grissom made the introductions quickly, before explaining  
further, "Sara works for the San Francisco crime unit and  
came down to give us some assistance while we are short-  
staffed."  
  
Sara frowned slightly at the description, initially surprised by  
his lack of full disclosure as to the real reason for her stay. It  
didn't take long for her to realise that Grissom would not be  
wanting to air out the dirty laundry, despite Brass' previous  
involvement with Holly Gribbs.   
  
Grissom had given her all the relevant background information  
for her investigation, resulting in the fact that she did not need  
to interview Brass. His part in the matter had been simple; he  
had given Holly the job of fingerprinting a murder scene and  
told Warrick to babysit her through the task.   
  
"The dog barking."  
  
"What time was that?" Grissom looked at the surrounding  
street, noting that it was a typical urban residential area.   
Houses were fairly similar, with their neatly trimmed gardens.   
Mr. Stevens' garden was not attractive with very little  
vegetation and quite a lot of car spare parts littering what  
constituted as the front lawn together with a broken down old  
car with grass growing high around its tyres.  
  
"Six thirty this morning."  
  
"How long's the vic been dead?" The trio moved around  
through to the backyard where the victim was located on the  
back porch.  
  
"A while. Judge it for yourselves."  
  
Grissom gave Brass a hard look.   
  
"Coroner estimates time of death at between eight and eleven  
last night."  
  
As they entered the backyard, a German Shepherd began  
barking loudly at their intrusion. It was held back safely from  
the crime scene by a chain connected to a metal post down  
the opposite end of the yard. "The dog didn't bark at the time  
the neighbour heard the gunshot cum backfire?"  
  
"Nope. Although, it is a friendly dog, despite it's attempts to  
appear otherwise," Brass informed them.  
  
"It's bark is worse that it's bite."  
  
"You had to say it, didn't you?" Sara commented,  
remembering how many of his cryptic words and quotations  
had kept her awake at night, trying to decipher the meaning.   
It meant that she had devoured a wide range of literature in  
the time she worked with him in an effort to understand him.   
  
"Well, someone has to keep sight of the facts," Grissom said  
lightly. "Sara, let's process the scene."  
  
Brass watched the two of them as they worked easily side by  
side. Their hands touching every now and again as they  
anticipated each other's actions. It was like watching a  
choreographed dance, their movements fluid, never once did  
they break their concentration nor hamper the other's work.   
Brass was surprised at the intimacy between the two without  
them actually doing anything to enhance the impression. He  
felt like an intruder on a date, a conversation was taking place  
between the two CSIs without any words being said.  
  
"Okay, that's it. We're finished here." Grissom looked at  
Brass watching them inquisitively, his face pensive. "Brass,  
we're done."  
  
"Yep. Right. Let me know what you find. We'll be  
interviewing family and friends."   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
CSI BUILDING  
MORGUE  
  
"What've you got for us?" Grissom asked the middle-aged,  
bearded man standing over the body of John Stevens. "Sara  
Sidle, meet Dr. Al Robbins. Al, Sara Side, a CSI on loan to  
us from San Francisco.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Dr. Robbins greeted. "Single gunshot  
wound. Entry wound through the roof of the mouth and exit  
wound through the top of his scalp.I gather the crime scene  
was a mess."  
  
"You could say that," Sara responded, remembering the grisly  
find behind the chair the victim had been sitting in.  
  
"The entry wound is consistent with the rifle found at the  
scene and the mode is consistent with a suicide attempt."   
  
Grissom looked closely at the victim's head wound and  
peering over the tops of his glasses asked,"his death was  
instantaneous?"  
  
"No doubt about it."  
  
"Then the only problem to be solved is how did a dead man's  
gun move ten feet from the victim," Grissom pointed out,  
straightening back to his full height.  
  
"Not suicide?" Dr. Robbins asked.  
  
"Recoil after he shot himself would not move the rifle that  
distance. We just have to find out what."  
  
"The boys bagged the hands at the scene and your vic's  
clothing is in the bag over there."  
  
"Thanks. Let's test for GSR on the hands and check under  
his nails. There might be something we're missing. Al, look  
for zebras. Something's not right."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
4.27 P.M.  
  
Grissom found Sara in the break room, pouring herself a cup  
of coffee into a polystyrene cup. "Here, use one of my mugs.   
The coffee tastes terrible in those containers." He opened  
one of the doors to the cabinets and pulled out two mugs.   
  
Sara jumped and turned to face him. She hadn't heard him  
enter the room, his loafers making no sound on the linoleum  
floor.  
  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Grissom apologised,  
pouring coffee into two mug. He added sugar and milk before  
handing one to her.  
  
"It's okay. I was thinking." Sara responded, leaning back  
against the cabinets and rubbing at her neck.   
"About?"  
  
"The case." Sara looked across at him and found him looking  
at her, encouraging her to continue. "We found gunshot  
residue on the victim's hands and clothes."   
  
"Which could have come at the time he was shot."  
  
"Bear with me. His fingerprints are on the rifle. There are no  
other prints."  
  
"They could have been wiped off," Grissom pointed out.  
  
"Yes, but wouldn't they have also wiped off the victims'  
prints."  
  
"Granted. So..."  
  
"Brass' interviews have all supported the fact that the victim  
was depressed, had threatened suicide. He lost his family last  
year in a car accident. He lost his job only a week ago. The  
only thing that doesn't add up is the rifle. Grissom, I think we  
missed something at the scene."  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"You already knew that, didn't you?"  
  
"It was adding up that way."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
CRIME SCENE  
  
It was nearly 5.00 p.m. when they arrived at the crime scene.   
The crime scene tape was still fixed firmly in place, marking  
the site of another investigation yet to be finalised. Slipping  
under the tape, Grissom and Sara made their way through to  
the backyard, each carrying a field kit into the scene.   
  
Grissom opened the heavy wooden gate and went through  
with Sara close on his heels. A volley of barking assailed  
them as they came through. Grissom had only taken four  
steps inside the gate when a heavy ball of long fur assaulted  
him, knocking him off his feet to the ground. Sara instinctively  
reached for her gun - a gun that was not there since she was  
interstate and working on an internal investigation.  
  
Her fear for Grissom turned to laughter when she realised that  
the dog wasn't mauling but merely licking Grissom to death.   
The sounds of his discomfort were becoming voluble.  
  
"Sara Sidle! Quit laughing and get this dog off me!"  
  
Seeing the choker collar around the dog's neck, she slipped  
her hand around the end and gave a gently tug with some  
words of encouragement to the dog.   
  
Grissom slowly got to his feet, watching the two of them  
warily. Sara was standing with the dog sitting at her side, it's  
tongue lolling out of it's mouth and panting. It was almost like  
the dog was grinning, having a good laugh at his antics along  
with Sara.  
  
One strong look in her direction wiped the large grin from her  
face, only to be replaced by a smirk. He shook his head; she  
would never let him live this one down.  
  
"Look at it this way, Grissom. We now know that Brass was  
right; the dog is friendly."  
  
"Very funny, Sara. Now that you have Fido on a leash, you  
can hold him while I check out what evidence hasn't been  
destroyed by the dog."  
  
Sara followed Grissom towards the back patio, watching as  
he began double-checking their earlier exploration of the  
crime scene. The chair where the victim had been shot had  
been moved to the left slightly when the coroner had removed  
the body. A dog's trampoline bed was flush against the edge  
of the patio, out of the way.  
  
Her attention was diverted by the dog pawing at her leg. She  
looked down and it had a stick in it's mouth. Unable to resist  
the melting brown eyes, Sara took the stick from the dog and  
tossed it away from the crime scene, letting the dog chase it.   
This game continued for several minutes before it caught  
Grissom's attention.   
  
Watching the way the dog managed the stick, Grissom began  
searching the backyard for another stick; one a certain size  
and weight. Finding something close to what he was wanting,  
he tested the weight in his hand, balancing it.   
  
"Sara, try this one."  
  
Sara gave him an incredulous look. "You want me to throw  
that for the dog?"  
  
"Just do it. It's an experiment."  
  
She felt the weight of the stick in her hand, balancing it to  
throw when she realised what Grissom had in mind. Tossing  
the stick the dog retrieved it, picking it up several times before  
being able to balance it in his mouth.   
  
The dog brought it back, dropping it willingly back into Sara's  
hands. Grimacing at the thick saliva streaks staining the stick,  
they examined the teeth marks.  
  
"The rifle was pretty old and banged up. If there were any  
marks, you wouldn't have really noticed them."  
  
"We need to go back to the lab. I'll call Greg and get him to  
test for saliva. Bring that stick with you."   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Heard your murder suspect was a dog. Nice going,  
Grissom," Nick commented, passing Grissom and Sara in the  
hall on the way to Grissom's office.  
  
"The dog tampered with the evidence, Nick. It didn't commit  
the crime."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"See you in the briefing room in fifteen minutes," Grissom  
reminded him.  
  
After they entered the office, Grissom closed the door and  
invited her to sit down.   
  
"Thanks for letting me tag along today, Grissom. It was fun."   
Sara pushed her hair back out of her face. "You've got my  
report - I suppose I'd better book a flight back to San  
Francisco."  
  
"I want you to stay," Grissom said the words quickly,  
catching her by surprise.  
  
"Excuse me?" Sara looked at him, trying to work out what he  
meant.  
  
"I'm short a CSI. We've had five that didn't make the grade  
before Holly. You're good at your job. Sara, I want you to  
come work for me."  
  
Silence.  
  
"They won't like it," she said, slowly.  
  
"Who? San Francisco. No, I don't suppose they'd want to  
lose someone like you."  
  
"No, Grissom. That's not what I meant," Sara shook her  
head, amazed and reminding herself that his people skills were  
much like hers. "Your staff. I did the internal investigation,  
remember."  
  
"They don't like a lot of things I do. Don't worry about them.   
They'll be fine. They're a good group of people, great at their  
jobs," Grissom brushed aside her concern, eager to entice her  
to stay with him in Las Vegas.  
  
"You've caught me by surprise..."  
  
"Don't make a decision right now. Think about it. You've  
been working over twenty-four hours. Go back to your hotel  
and think about it. But remember, we've got the second best  
lab in the country; well on the way to being the best," he said  
softly, encouraging her to think seriously about his offer.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
My focus has changed in a matter of a few days. I'd  
given up any hope of ever working with Grissom again  
after out last investigation together. But then, Gil  
Grissom had always had a way of surprising everyone,  
suspects and colleagues alike. His studious and often,  
silent way of dealing with his cases left me in awe. I  
wished to have his control, his ability to look on every  
crime scene objectively. His invitation to stay was  
tempting...the situation back in San Francisco made it  
even more so. Was I running away from the problem  
back home? I don't think so. It wasn't as if Grissom's  
team was going to welcome me with open arms. This was  
the chance of a lifetime; the opportunity to learn from  
and be influenced by one of the best in the business that  
had me really enarmoured with the prospect. I only hope  
my emotions are up to the ordeal. 


End file.
